House-Husband
by Meowmers
Summary: Domesticities and Proposals for Marriage. Tomione. AU. Just a little One-Shot.


Hermione Granger works damn hard.

Ever since she was a child her personality was marked by her determination, her hard-headed stubbornness and her desperation to make an impact, to make a change. And she had worked her ass off to get where she is today—a damn good lawyer well on her way to becoming a senator, hoping for a chance to run for president. She works harder than any of her friends, harder than anyone she knows really, and that's not her being full of herself, its just the truth. So when she comes home, she is _tired_.

And to be perfectly honest, the last thing she wants to see is Abraxas Malfoy's goddamn feet on her goddamn coffee table smirking at her like a fucking jackass.

(And maybe she's had a long day and she's already beyond her threshold of bullshit for the day, but also maybe she just hates every Malfoy whom she has met, especially her boyfriend's 'friend.')

"Move your feet," She orders. She's not sure if she's ever said a full sentence to the man since she's known him. But then, within the first five minutes of meeting her the Irish twat looked her in the eye and dead-ass told her he hated american women because they were 'ignorant' and 'annoying,' so they hadn't exactly gotten off on the best foot.

"Welcome home darling!" Malfoy cooed from where he was lounged on her sofa, not bothering to follow her orders. He grinned at her, and she glared at him with all the spite she could muster. "Tough day at work? How's my cousin treating you?"

His cousin was a dick, but he already knew that, so she refused to answer.

"Where's Tom?" She asked instead, glancing around her apartment to see if he was lurking in any dark corners.

"Toilet," He answered shortly. She rolled her eyes, dropping her purse by the front door and pulling his feet off the table while she walked by. He laughed behind her as she made her way to the bedroom and, subsequently, the bathroom where Tom was washing his hands.

"What is your criminal friend doing here?" She asked tiredly, leaning against the sink and crossing her arms in front of her chest while he dried his hands.

"I am the only convicted criminal here," He reminded her, his hands settling on either side of her and caging her in. She didn't even try to hold back her unamused glare.

"Convicted being the operative word here," She muttered, attempting to ignore the flutter in her stomach as he leaned in to trail his nose along her cheek and into her hair. "And may I remind you that you _were_ exonerated? Thanks to me."

"You never cease to remind me," He rumbled, his lips by her ear.

"Tom?" She breathed, not lifting her arms from their position crossed across her chest. His still caged her in, his cheek against hers as he filled his lungs with the scent of her hair. He hummed in response, her only indication he was still listening. "Go tell your friend to leave."

He chuckled against her ear, pulling back in order to meet her eyes. She scowled when she saw just how amused he looked. "Did you not tell him to leave yourself? Have you finally found someone you can't nag into complacency?" He asked. She did uncross her arms then, but only to place a hand on his bare chest and push him away. He reacted quickly though, and before she could distance him, his hands hooked onto her hips and pulled her against him.

"Oh for god's sake," She muttered, "I don't _nag_ —" He smiled because they both knew that was a lie, "—and I am too tired for this, Tom. Tell your friend to leave so I can have a peaceful evening."

"Please?" He prompted, pursing his lips and eyeing her in a way that told her he knew exactly how close to losing her sanity she was, and he was willing to push her over the edge. She gritted her teeth.

"Go." She demanded, "And for god's sake put a bloody shirt on."

The last statement was probably a mistake. He seemed ready to follow her instructions—he knew, after all, what a bloody swot she could be when she was truly angry with him—but the moment those words escaped her lips he paused. A nearly frightful smile took over his features, then, and she knew him well enough to know she was not in the mood for that smile. "Go, Tom." She seethed.

He didn't listen. At first she thought he would, because he turned to the bathroom door as if he was about to leave. But his hand settled on the door and pushed it shut, his fingers twisting the lock, and the resounding click seemed to reverberate straight through her and cause her already thinned patience to snap.

"Tom," She seethed, and as he took a step toward her to crowd her against the sink she stepped around him, and then repeated his full name for effect,"Tom Marvolo Riddle, need I remind you that not only am I the only reason you are allowed to roam the land of the free to begin with, but I'm also the only one in this apartment who earns a salary? And if you don't drag your ass out into that living room and tell Abraxas to fuck off then _I_ will be on trial for first degree murder, and you don't have the law degree or the funds to get me out of that sentence, so—" she made a vague gesture with her hands that was supposed to prompt him to leave, but he didn't. He smiled, his lips dragging up over his teeth and his eyes half-closed, regarding her through his lashes in a way that almost made her forget why she was angry.

"Are you threatening me?" He asked her, bemused. Her head fell back and she stared up at the ceiling.

"I was referring to Abraxas but now I think I might kill you, too." She said, and his responding laugh was enough for her to snap her chin back down in order to meet his eyes with her own furious glare. "I'm hungry," She said, "And tired, and not in the mood to deal with your mob friends—and so help me, Tom, if you are involved in any of his bullshit—"

"I'm not," He assured her, but he said it so offhanded and so demurely that she couldn't tell if he was lying or not, so she continued.

"I have too much at stake in my career to have you blow it all to shit by conducting heinously illegal activities under my roof—" He laughed again, and she only hesitated for a moment to observe his relaxed position leaning against the sink, watching her implode, before she continued twice as angry, "I have half a mind to make you get a job so you have something to keep you occupied and I don't have to worry about it!"

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth as he silently regarded her, and it took all her willpower not to allow her eyes to drop to his lips. The last thing she needed right now was to have him believe that she was distracted by him, lest he make an advancement and she may actually be going to prison for murder.

"I made you dinner," He finally said, and it was so out-of-nowhere that she stared at him in silence for a full ten seconds before finally responding.

"You what?" She said.

"Dinner?" He repeated, his eyebrow quirking upwards, "It's in the kitchen. You said you were hungry."

"Yes," She sighed, "Did you hear anything _else_ I said?"

"Rest assured I am not putting your future presidential career at risk by conducting illegal activities under your roof," He said, and though his smile persisted, his tone was serious. She took a deep, frustrated breath, exhaling sharply through her nose.

"Or at all, would be preferable" She said, "If we're together, anything you do reflects on me," His smile did fade, then, but it was replaced by some heavy, indescribable look in his eyes. He didn't respond right away, and when he did it wasn't with words but with an extended hand. She stared at it dubiously before sighing heavily and stepping forward, allowing his arms to loop around her waist as she wrapped her own around his neck. She all but melted into the embrace, molded against him, and listened to the steady heart in his chest.

"Thank you for dinner," She said, regardless of the fact that she hadn't eaten it yet. Tom hummed in response, the sound of it reverberating through her.

"I would hate to subject you to your own cooking," He responded nonchalantly, as if he wasn't about to insult her, "You might poison yourself."

"It's hard to accept the gesture when you insult me in the same breath," She said, but her lips had turned up into a smile. He couldn't see it, of course, but he seemed to read in her tone that it was there. He turned his head to press a kiss against her throat.

"You don't need to get a job," She told him,"If you want to stay home and cook me dinner I'm fine with that," He let out a short, low laugh at that, pressing another kiss further up her throat, and another just under her ear. And she knew he was fine with that, too, because ever since Tom had gotten out of prison he had never seemed to want a job, instead preferring to spend his time at home. At their home. "Besides," She continued, as his lips continued along her jaw, and her cheek, "I've always liked the idea of a house-husband."

He paused. And because he paused, she panicked.

"I didn't mean that," She told him, her heart stuttering a bit when he pulled back just far enough to meet her eyes, to watch her panicked features. His thumbs were stroking soothing circles against her back.

"Didn't you?" He asked, and she could tell by his tone that he was enjoying her rising anxiety. Glaring at him, she made to unwind herself from him but he held fast, stepping away from the sink in order to press her against the bathroom door, "No, no," He said, "Tell me all about your wicked little fantasies—" She laughed, a bit unsurely, thankful that he hadn't been made uncomfortable by her blatant reference to marriage. "Tell me, what would your house-husband do for you?"

"First of all," She said, tilting her chin upwards to near his lips, "He would tell his friend to fuck off home, like I've asked him to do. Twice."

One of his hands had slid up the length of her spine to thread through her hair, undoing the knot at the back of her head. "Perhaps I would if you stopped distracting me," He told her.

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," She told him, "I'm not touching you until you tell him to leave."

His lips quirked upward, a fondness in his eyes as he gazed down at her. She shrugged and made a show of raising her hands in the air in something akin to a position of surrender, and dropped them back down to her sides. He didn't move, though, like she thought he might. Instead he continued to hold her, pressed against the door, and there was something simultaneously lovely and worrying about the look in his eyes.

"We should be married," He finally told her after a long moment of silent staring. Hermione froze.

"What?" She squawked, because that had come out of nowhere—"Are you—?"

"I know you want to," He told her, unfazed by her panic as he continued to gaze down at her, "Is it so surprising that I want to, too?"

"Yes," She admitted laughingly, a bit drunkenly, joyously surprised, "A little,"

"It might be a bit scandalous for an aspiring presidential candidate to be cohabiting with someone she isn't married to," He told her, as if offering an explanation for his impromptu proposal.

"I'm too young to run for president right now," She reminded him, "We have time."

"I don't want time," He said, "I want you."

"It might be a bit scandalous for an aspiring presidential candidate to be married to a member of the Irish-mob," She told him, half-teasing, forgetting her vow not to touch him until he sent Abraxas out of their living room and lifting her hands to smooth up his chest and wind around his shoulders.

"Exonerated, remember?" He murmured, pinning her more effectively against the door so he could feel every inch of her against him. His lips traced her cheek bone and he spoke in her ear, "You're not thinking of saying no, are you?"

"You seem quite certain I'll say yes," she replied, a bit breathless as his fingers slowly unzipped her skirt and tugged it downward, "I'm considering saying no just to bring your ego down to side."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," He warned her, her skirt pooling to the ground, his fingers already unbuttoning her blazer and making quick work of the buttons of her shirt.

"And why not?" She prompted, her fingers threading through his hair as his teeth pulled at her earlobe. "What will you do?"

"Unspeakable things," He rasped in her ear, hooking his thumbs under her underwear to pull them down off her hips.

"Then I suppose I'll have to say no," She teased, dragging her nails down his scalp.

"Hermione," He called warningly, and she cut him off before he could say anything else.

"Of course I'll marry you," She assured him, her lips curling into a smile, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice, "But you're planning the wedding, I want nothing to do with that."

"We'll hire a planner," He promised.

"And you'll meet with them," She insisted, turning her head to press a smiling kiss against the side of his neck, "I'll just show up to taste the cake."

His hands hooked under her thighs and he hoisted her up against the door, his hips pressing into hers, her legs wrapped around his hips. He finally pulled his head away from her neck and sported a particularly wicked smirk on his lips, a nonverbal agreement, and then ground his hips into hers to draw a breathy moan from her lips that he captured with his own.

Three large bangs on the bathroom door reminded her why they where in there to begin with. "Oi!" A voice called from the other side, and Hermione placed her hands on either side of Tom's jaw to keep his lips against hers.

"Ignore him," She whispered against his lips, "Either he waits or he leaves." He seemed to agree, his tongue sweeping between her lips to stroke against her own, his fingers digging into the bare flesh of her thighs.

Three more loud bangs, "Are you two bloody finished yet?" The door rattled when he attempted to open it, and Hermione sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. Tom looked a bit murderous.

"I might actually kill him," She muttered as Abraxas continued to pound on the door. Tom's jaw twitched as he set her back on her feet, stepping a bit away from her and ushering her politely to the side.

"No need," He told her, opening the door—keeping her carefully concealed behind it—and immediately setting his hands around Abraxas's throat and dragging him away. Hermione peeked out of the bathroom, and seeing that they were out of sight, stepped out into the bedroom, shedding her jacket and unbuttoned shirt and folding them over a nearby chair, picking up her skirt and doing the same. She had just reached back to undo her bra when she felt hands cover hers.

"That was quick," She commented, and once the bra had fallen to the floor she turned to face him, smiling up at the decidedly intense expression on his face. She reached for him, but he caught her hands, and before she could ask him what was wrong, he had slipped the ring he always wore off his finger and onto hers. It was a little big, but not the point where it was falling off, and she liked the weight of it on her hand.

"I do love you," He told her solemnly, seriously, not at all the way people usually say they love someone, more in the way someone might say 'I'm sorry for your loss,' but the impact of the words was the same. She bit her lip to try to stop from smiling like a fool, and he tilted her face up to catch her lip between his teeth instead.

She pulled away, briefly, pulling down at his trousers, "Dinner won't be too cold if we wait a little longer, will it?" She asked, stepping backwards toward the bed as he followed after her.

He didn't answer. He didn't need to, because either answer wouldn't have changed anything when he pressed her into the mattress,his tongue tracing patterns down her throat and her chest. And because she had almost forgotten to say it, she breathed, "I love you," Back to him, not in the solemn way he did, but a way that held more light.

And she said it again, and again, and again.

—

 **I know 3000 words? wow I haven't written a 3000 word blip in a while but HERE**

 **(also I made Hermione american purely so she could run for president jic you were wondering)**

 **I got an anon asking for like domestic life? I mean…idk if this qualifies but idk living together and proposing thats kind of domestic I guess idk man**

 **And I KNOW mob!tom and lawyer!hermione wow does that sound familiar maybe in a previous fanfic meowmers? hmm? I KNOW OK it just happened alright stop judging me**

 **idk I just wanted to write something small…and fluffy…and I didn't feel like delving into the next chapter of Allure yet so I was like hey remember that prompt you started forever ago that you didn't feel like finishing so I came back and finished it!**

 **anyway hope you enjoyed this little baby read….please review and let me know! I have a couple other prompts that I'm planning on eventually doing i haven't been ignoring them just…procrastinating on writing them lol**

 **i love you all~**


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